


Your body, my temple

by MidnightTrashGoblin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Adorable Jester Lavorre, Art, F/F, Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Jester Lavorre Needs a Hug, Jester Lavorre-centric, M/M, Mentions of Molly, Painting, Season/Series 02, jester copes through her art, no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26204251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightTrashGoblin/pseuds/MidnightTrashGoblin
Summary: It started suddenly, the painting.No one really knew why, perhaps because Jester needed something to keep her mind off of the Molly sized hole in the group, perhaps because she was out of paper in her sketchbook. Either way, no one really mentioned it when they'd all wake up after Jester's watch and the girl's blue arms were littered with painted flowers and a peacock was twisting around her calf.It became a habit after a while, Jester taking last watch so she could catch the sunrise and paint designs across her skin.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett, The Gentleman | Babenon Dosal/Marion Lavorre | Ruby of the Sea, Yeza Brenatto/Nott | Veth Brenatto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	Your body, my temple

**Author's Note:**

> So I am not at all caught up. I'm keeping things pretty ambiguous, especially in the second chapter. The beginning goes up until the pirate arc, but then gets pretty open after that. Beware of spoilers I guess, but I wasn't too specific. If you don't know what happened to Molly, then like, BIG spoilers. But that's about it.

**Jester**

It started suddenly, the painting. 

No one really knew why, perhaps because Jester needed something to keep her mind off of the Molly sized hole in the group, perhaps because she was out of paper in her sketchbook. Either way, no one really mentioned it when they'd all wake up after Jester's watch and the girl's blue arms were littered with painted flowers and a peacock was twisting around her calf.

It became a habit after a while, Jester taking last watch so she could catch the sunrise and paint designs across her skin.

It wasn't every day that she would paint herself, and most of the paint would remain until they found the errant wash house or until they flaked away with time. She liked to let them fade on their own if she could. But the more they traveled, the more complex they grew and it was Caleb who first noticed that she painted what she loved. While her sketchbook was filled with silly doodles of dicks and drawings of monsters with their pants falling down, her skin was reserved for something much more divine. Something more beautiful. And always after something big happened, something that had them all crowding together for comfort and solidarity.

The first time was very clearly for Molly, with the bright colors of the peacock and the gentle strokes of the flowers. 

After that it was for Caduceaus Clay, the newest member of their group. Jester loved him instantly, with his soft smile and his wise words. So it was no surprise to the rest of them that there was a bouquet of bright pink and green mushrooms on her legs the next morning, interspersed with soft petals and gentle leaves that began at her ankles and twisted their way up to her knees. Caduceaus, who had not been privy to Jester's artwork yet, had been a bit shell shocked at the sight, his lips forming a loopy sort of smile as he told her she looked very nice in pink.

Jester's mother was a sight to behold once they got the chance to visit Nicodranis. It was no secret that Jester loved her very much and the feelings seemed equally returned in a way that other members of the group might not have had with their own parents. She didn't paint for her mother though until they were forced from the coastal city and onto a ship, far out at sea. There was a sadness to her brushstrokes, a fear that she might never get to visit again and that her mother would miss her terribly while she was gone. It resulted in a sleeve of red up both arms, gentle swirls and loops like the curls of her mother's hair, all coming together to her hands which were completely painted red. The design didn't hold up long in the wet air of the sea and the salty spray washed and flaked it away within a day, but there were stains between her fingernails and a hint of red across her knuckles that lasted long into their voyage.

Fjord's painting was the easiest to determine, though how Jester had managed to do it, they never found out. (Caleb had a suspicion her duplicate had a hand in the design.) It was the day after their kiss, if you could call it that. The day after Jester nearly drowned and Fjord had saved her life. So it was no surprise really when they all came to the kitchens to see Jester wearing only a pair of trousers and her wraps around her chest. There was a large yellow eye on the back of her neck, winding and twisting tentacles painted a deep green around her shoulders and down her arms. The imagery was uncanny and so detailed that Fjord had shuddered at the sight of it. But Jester hadn't said anything about the new design, so neither did the rest of them.

Yasha's came next. It was her smallest design, just a ring of flowers circling her wrists and ankles, but the barbarian had smiled gently at them and told Jester that Zuala would have loved them.

Caleb and Nott's came together after a long day in the tunnels under the Ashkeep mountains. Jester couldn't sleep and her mind had been dragged back to the stories they both told them. Stories of goblins and buttons and magick and crystals. It made her angry, what had been done to her friends, angry and sad. So she poured her emotions into her paints and the next morning she was covered in light blues and gentle greens. They created an ocean of waves and bubbles across her throat and over her collarbones, the water fading away into the sharp angles and cuts of crystals that were painted across her torso. It was a devastating sight, but a beautiful one and Caleb had no words to give her upon waking, only a hug that lasted long enough to have their arms aching to be lowered. Nott had merely winced at the design, but later Jester found a single button sewn into the corner of her dress, and she smiled.

While Yasha's design was the smallest, Beau's was probably the simplest. 

After Caleb had pointed out to the group that Jester seemed to use the paintings to remind herself of the people she loved after big moments, it was a surprise to them that Beau's painting came after what was seemingly a gentle night. They had yet to leave the tunnels, instead bunking down in an alcove made of glistening crystals, but the night went on uneventful. Nothing happened. No one attacked, no one died. It was just a... simple night.

So when Jester greeted everyone with her cheerful grin that morning, they were shocked to see the handprint on her chest. It was a slightly paler blue than her own skin, pressed perfectly right over where Jester's heart would be, the fingers curving over collarbone and shoulder with such a care that had Fjord averting his eyes from it. But no one asked. Because Jester's paintings were her own and they all knew there were worse ways to cope. So they smiled at her and turned away when Beau wrapped her own hand around her staff, her fingers stained blue.

Eventually, Jester started painting just to paint. The designs began to grow in frequency, after days that nothing happened to warrant them. Yet they'd wake up and Jester would be showing off the orange and red flames that circled her wrists, or the tarot cards dancing their way up her ribs. There would be storm clouds across her shoulders and purple flowers twisting around her horns.

It drew attention to an already ostentatious tiefling, but none of them dared to tell her to stop.

Fjord was the first one to suggest a different canvas. It was a bad day, one where they were all feeling the dangers of being in the dynasty and were struggling with decisions they had made. Jester had been staring at her paints for an hour in the tavern before Fjord stood and tugged his shirt off. It took little convincing for her to turn her attention to him and he sat backwards on the chair, his back towards her.

"Pretty scarred canvas, but if ya want somethin' new to look at," he had stuttered.

Which had of course started a whole new adventure in Jester's art. And there was no short supply of volunteers.

That night, the nein had stayed in the tavern for hours and hours as they talked and laughed and Jester painted. When she was finally done, Fjord had his whole back covered in dark blues and greens, an ocean piece with a shadow falling into the depths. Large tendrils reached towards it, but a spiral of almost sparkling gold paint kept them at bay.

Beau whistled low and Caleb tugged a mirror out of his bag so Fjord could see it.

After that she moved onto the others. 

Yasha got swashes of storm clouds that engulfed her throat and shoulders, even circling around to her back where Jester had painted a long strike of black lightning down the barbarians spine. It was intimidating and lovely, matching her hair perfectly, though she had it tied up out of the way until it washed off. Yasha had given her one of those teary eyed smiles and spent the next few hours in prayer.

Caleb was the first to request something, coming up to the little sapphire one night after waking from a nightmare and asking her to cover his scars with something beautiful. Something he loved. So she did, spending the next few hours hunched over the table and Caleb's hands. By the morning, he was a mix of beautiful colors and designs. There were flowers and mushrooms, a blue ribbon wrapped around each wrist, little yellow eyes blinking up at him in glistening paints. On the other arm was a massive peacock that was decorated with buttons and donuts. When Beau frowned in confusion, Caleb had simply told her he asked for something he loved and Jester had given him his friends.

Nott was one that had taken a while to come forth, and not until after they had found Yezza and brought him to safety. Then she'd quietly asked Jester to paint her to make her beautiful for him. While Nott had expected makeup or pale skin to show what she used to be, Jester simply painted some flowers around her eyes, the centers made of little buttons. Because nothing was more beautiful than who she already was.

Cadeuces was one of her harder projects, if only because he was mostly covered in fur. But jester still found a way, she always did. She'd come to him one night when she couldn't sleep without seeing the faces of those they'd lost, those they may never see again, and asked him for some tea. Cad of course obliged, then shucked the top of his kimono down so that she could get to his arms where his hands and wrists were bare of fur. There she painted a bright floral design, interspersed with mushrooms and bones, all the way to the inside of the firbolg's elbows. And Cadeuces had smiled like she was the sun, promising her to treasure this memory above all else.

Beau was the second to make a request, asking for something that Molly would love. It was something Jester actually sketched out a few times before hand to make sure it was perfect. To make sure Molly liked it. The piece took the entire night to complete, as Beau was no longer shy to shucking her robes in front of her friends, most of whom were asleep anyway. She sat perfectly still in meditation as Jester's gentle brush strokes tickled across her skin, tracing every detail of Molly's own tattoos that she could remember. She began with the sun on Beau's shoulder, the gold glittering across the woman's tanned skin. Jester took painstaking care as she drew her brush through the peacock, the serpent, the eyes, the moons. No detail went unpainted, until Beau's arms and back and chest were completely covered with bright colours and designs. She was still painting when the others woke, her face close to Beau's as she finished the last details of the feathers across the monk's shaved head and the side of her face.

None of them mentioned the tears in everyone's eyes at the sight, and Cadeuseus made sure to pack up Jester's paints so she could get some rest after such a long night.

Others asked sometimes, when they caught Jester painting across one of her companions in a tavern or bakery. Others asked her to paint them, offered to pay her for her art if only she'd spare them some time.

But she never budged. Never painted anyone she didn't love. Didn't trust.

Because her paintings were her soul, and when she painted those she loved, she gave a piece of herself to all of them. One by one. So that when she was gone, there would always be some of her left.


End file.
